Solstice
by Pachelbel
Summary: It's the last day of summer, and Glorfindel's going to enjoy it. He's got his horse and his lunch; what he needs is a plan to defeat the bugs. (Fluff; gift-fic for Eruantale Arte)


Disclaimer: The characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, as does the setting.

Author's Notes: For Eruantale Arte; Merry Christmas and Happy (very belated) Birthday, hun ^.^

  
  


This is a short fluff fic about my favorite Elf and his horse, because...well, I get along better with horses than people, so that's where I write my fluff. However, even Horse-Fluff isn't my strong suit...but I didn't really want to do an angst fic. .

  
  
  
  


Solstice

  
  


The meadow was quite beautiful. Even at the end of a long summer, a season which had followed an even longer drought. The expected bubbling stream was nearly dried up, resembling less a sparkling ribbon and more a sluggish path of mud.

  
  


The flowers were wilting around the edges of their petals, nearly devoid of pollen now that it was mid-September, though the bumblebees were still active. Rabbits were enjoying the ripened plants, while squirrels weren't quite ready to begin hunting out nuts or berries, and the elk were just beginning to grow their thicker coats.

  
  


The grass was still very tall, beginning to fade from a bright-if not so vivid as in a more rainy season--green to a muted olive color. It was more appropriate for the coming fall, really.

  
  


Asfaloth seemed to enjoy "drought grass" more, anyway, Glorfindel had learned. At first scent of the field, the horse had abandoned his usual calm grace and was now grazing through the field as steadily as a plow. Glorfindel, being less excited about the prospect of eating grass, had taken to the trees to observe the meadow from above.

  
  


Except, when one wandered into a meadow for a break, one often overlooked the bugs. And while Glorfindel had heard rumor that Elf Lords and their horses were naturally immune to flies and mosquitoes, he happened to know differently.

  
  


He'd thought of bringing the oils he usually applied to Asfaloth and himself to repel bugs, but this was the last day of summer and he hadn't wanted to put any time towards anything but enjoying the fading warmth of the season.

  
  


Scratching a small bite on his arm, he regretted that decision.

  
  


With a frown, he looked down to see Asfaloth toss his head a few times, shaking a cloud of gnats from his mane and face. The stallion then slapped his tail against his side to stun as many of the pests as possible. It didn't help much. The deer flies and mosquitoes and gnats were persistent, especially near autumn.

  
  


Glorfindel slapped a mosquito away, though Asfaloth was taking the brunt of the attack. Silently, he dropped down from the tree and jogged to Asfaloth's side, running his hands over the horse's back to shoo as many flies away as possible.

  
  


The horse turned to give him a distinctly appreciative look, before the buzzing mass returned, this time to attack Glorfindel's hands as well as Asfaloth's flanks. A silky tail slapped over horse and Elven skin, but as before, it did little to stop the determined pests.

  
  


Gray eyes fell upon the muddy banks of a drying creek, and memory sparked. This was certainly not the first time Glorfindel had been faced with insects, and there had been a time, long ago, when he hadn't known about oils and herbs to protect him.

  
  


He had used one thing; mud.

  
  


A sharp sting from a deer fly made up the First Born's mind, and he moved nimbly to the waterside. He stuck his hand into the sooty mud and smeared it over his hands and arms. When he no longer felt the biting and settling of countless little bugs, he sat back on his heels and turned.

  
  


"Asfaloth, come quickly," he called back, and in a second a very agitated white horse was standing above him. He scooped a fistful of mud, and slathered it over shining white horsehair.

  
  


It was much harder to coat a horse than an Elf, Glorfindel decided. Asfaloth was, at first, not pleased with the coarse feel of mud rubbing over his skin, especially when it got into raw bite marks.

  
  


Soon, however, it began to sooth the constant irritation of a dozen bug bites. The insects which continued to land on him became stuck, and best of all, couldn't bite through the mud.

  
  


He nosed Glorfindel aside and took over, laying down in the mud and rolling first on one side, then the other. Glorfindel watched a moment, then with a slight smile moved further upstream and, offering his companion a final glance, lay on his back in the stream and rolled.

  
  


The sun warmed the water, but the mud was sticky and deliciously cool. Glorfindel laughed over the sound of muddy water sloshing over himself and a tall horse.

  
  


By the time they were a satisfactory sienna-brown color, it was late afternoon. Glorfindel was the first to climb out and fall back on the dry grass. Asfaloth stood and drank for a bit, then climbed out and, shaking loose water from his mane, stood a while to breath insect-free air.

  
  


Glorfindel climbed back up his tree and opened a small pack, taking out fresh bread and white cheese, and a large red apple. The apple he tossed down so that Asfaloth could find it.

  
  


When their lunch was finished, Glorfindel hopped back down and made his way across the meadow to where Asfaloth was grazing again. He knew there were patches of wild carrots and strawberries in this part of the woods, and indeed they weren't hard to find.

  
  


He gave a few carrots to Asfaloth, but the strawberries he wrapped and placed in his pack, despite a few curious nudges from the horse.

  
  


He hadn't realized how far he'd wandered until he heard an Elf over head. Even with hearing as keen as his, the sound was soft as an imagined whisper that made even he wonder if it had been real at all. But as he slowly looked up, and was met with an arrow pointed at him, all doubts were erased.

  
  


"Glorfindel?" A very shocked archer practically squeaked, quickly returning the arrow from his bow to his quiver.

  
  


The Elf Lord blinked and tilted his head. "Yes?"

  
  


A dumbfounded expression glittered in ordinarily cool Elven eyes. "Were you not on an errand of some sort?"

  
  


Glorfindel smiled, though it was difficult as the mud had dried and hardened. "Of some sort, yes. Why do you ask?"

  
  


The other Elf laughed. "You're covered hair to boot in mud! In all my years I've never seen you dirty."

  
  


"I imagine that, in all your years, you've never seen any Elf as muddy as I." Asfaloth had come out of the meadow, to 'help' search for carrots most likely. "Nor have you seen Asfaloth filthy?"

  
  


"I thought for certain you were...ai, in truth, I didn't know what to think. Certainly, I wasn't expecting you."

  
  


"We were met with..." how to explain an army of pests? "Trouble, due to a mistake, on my part. Asfaloth and I found a way to remedy the situation."

  
  


"I see." There was a soft laugh, and then he went on, "Lord Elrond will be most amused to see you, I should think. Lady Arwen is returning this evening."

  
  


Glorfindel nodded. "I suppose we'll be heading back, in that case." This said, he climbed atop Asfaloth and offered his farewell to the soldier.

  
  


The two muddy, jet-coated figures made their way through invisible Elf trails to warm baths and Rivendell.


End file.
